Neighbors
by morrigane13
Summary: Draco discovers that his sexy new neighbor is none other than Hermione Granger. Fluff ensues!


bSummary: Draco discovers that his sexy new neighbor is none other than Hermione Granger. Fluff ensues!/b

bA/N: This fic is written as part of the Spring Fling HP Fic Exchange with the prompts beginning, backyard, and ring. b

bMy eternal gratitude to The Walk from for her quick beta. b

bummm . . . needless to say, I am NOT JKR and this fic is written only for fun, so don't sue me!!/b

Her belly button ring was extremely sexy. The first time he had seen its glory was a full month after moving into his new flat in London. Some wind of fate had led him to this exact place. Led him directly next door to the witch he had resented and tormented all his troubled teenage years.

The day Draco Malfoy had stood out on his balcony looking down on her backyard patio she had been twisting her body into fascinating shapes. Her belly button ring had glinted in the sunlight as she had stretched in a graceful wheel position. Even he had to admire her trim form and smooth abdomen; tanned by the summer sun. He hadn't known her identity in that fleeting moment of appreciation. Her face had been averted; all of her concentration was on breathing through the yoga positions. Her signature bushy hair had been ruthlessly tamed into a large bun on top of her head.

Now he stood, as he had every day since then, watching her from the shadows; only now he knew who he watched. He had tried to stop himself, had tried to tell himself that they were still at odds, but he could not seem to control his fascination with her. He wondered if she knew he watched.

She could feel his eyes all over her. What did he want? When they were children he had been hateful to her; as adults they were civil in a manner befitting colleagues. Now it would appear that they were neighbours.

She remembered the first day she had become aware of his presence next door. She had been practicing her daily yoga ritual, just as she had done every day for the last five years since Ron had died. In the beginning she had been seeking a release from the terrible grief his death had left her with. The day she entered the muggle yoga studio started her life anew. For a year yoga had been her escape from her own pain, and now it was a pleasure she practiced solely for herself. She had never been a particularly active person, seeing as how she disliked playing sports both magical & muggle and absolutely detested flying, but yoga was different _and_ she excelled at it. So every day, rain or shine, she executed one hour of deep breathing and deep stretching with her mind wholly focused on her inner Zen before heading off to work at the Ministry.

Then one day, two weeks ago, her focus had been interrupted by an uncomfortable prickle of awareness that had skidded down her spine. She had turned her head and met his stormy gaze. There was a moment of utter shock; the kind that would have rendered her speechless had she been talking. She had thought for sure in that moment he would say something to her; instead he had continued staring at her silently for a full minute before retreating into his flat.

They had continued in this manner for the past two weeks; he watched and only retreated if she indicated that she was aware of his presence. Though it made her feel slightly guilty, she often just let him watch. It made her stomach flutter uncomfortably to think of him up there, his steely grey eyes watching her from the shadows. Her mind was filled with questions, her usual calm completely broken up. Sometimes she even found the deep breathing impossible.

These queries plagued her; what was he thinking? Why did he watch her and yet never spoke to her? Did he even know it was her? Surely he had to know it was her!

She could hardly stand the frustration. One thing was for certain, they could not continue in this bizarre way. It was a contradiction to accept each other's presences, and yet continue to refuse acknowledgement.

Standing and rolling her mat efficiently she decided that this had gone on long enough. He had not been rude to her as of yet. And hadn't she commented on his personality change to Harry. In fact, now that she thought on it, she had noted continual changes in his behaviour over the last ten years. Through the rumour mill she knew that he had distanced himself from his parents shortly after his arranged marriage to Astoria Greengrass. Then three years ago he had shocked everyone by divorcing Astoria on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. Since then, he had loved and had been dutifully married to only his business; according to the gossip whores at the ministry reception desk. She wondered just how much of the shared information was true.

Giving herself a sidelong look in the mirror, she exited her flat and quickly descended the short flight of stairs, then immediately turned to ascend to his front door. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the buzzer. She quickly gave herself a mental shake and rang the buzzer. If he had something nasty to say to her, it was best to get it over with. If not, well she didn't have an answer for that eventuality, but she was certain she could adapt to any eventuality. Her stomach jerked as she watched him approach through the glass pane in the door.

He had become very handsome over the past ten years. His platinum hair was interspersed with darker golden tones & he wore it in a shaggy cut that wisped over his forehead. His smoky grey eyes met hers with apprehension. Surely he thought she was here to chew him out for his voyeuristic behaviour. To ease his mind, she smiled; though she wondered if it looked more like a grimace.

"Hello Draco."

His mind was racing. Was she angry with him? She didn't seem angry. What should he say to her? And how in the hell could she be standing on his stoop looking like a warrior-goddess? How had he never noticed how beautiful she was? With her hair pulled back from her face, her cheekbones stood out at sharp angles, but were softened by the delicate heart shape of her face and her large, doe eyes. Her smile was warm and left him feeling slightly breathless.

That same smile faltered as the silence dragged on. Though his current powers of speech were dubious, he knew somewhere deep inside that if he didn't pull it together he would blow his chance to know her. It was frightening how desperately he wanted that chance.

"Hello Hermione." His voice sounded strained and he fought the urge to clear his throat; lest she discover his discomfort. "How good to see you."

"You too," she paused a moment, as though collecting herself "I see that we are neighbours. When did you move in?" He wondered if this was no more than polite interest.

"Just last month. I needed a little change of pace."

"Well, this is a very nice neighbourhood."

"Yes, I had heard that."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. She seemed to be avoiding his gaze as fervently as he was avoiding hers. He wondered if awkward moments could kill. Still, his mind raced for a way to keep the conversation going.

"Would you like to come in for tea?"

"No, I couldn't."

His face fell; just slightly from its composed mask.

When she saw his expression, she hastened to clarify. "I have to get ready for work just now, but perhaps another time."

"Alright."

"Umm, we could meet for lunch. I am free at 12:30."

"That would be fine."

"Okay then."

"Okay. I'll meet you here at 12:30."

She turned to walk away looking slightly dazed. Had she just agreed to meet him, _Draco Malfoy_, for lunch? What _had_ she been thinking?

She spent the morning vacillating between reprimanding herself for inviting him to lunch and calming the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of sitting and having a meal with him. She had never thought him handsome when they were at school; she had had eyes only for Ron then. Besides, he had been so nasty to her. Now he had an entirely different affect. He had seemed nervous and shy, something quite extraordinary considering his person. And the hot look in his eyes while he watched her from the shadows of his porch still got her all worked up. Hermione had no idea what she was doing, but at 12:15 she flooed home, changed into her favourite jeans and tee shirt, and meticulously checked her appearance in the mirror. She pulled her shirt down and pulled her pants up. No, she thought and yanked her pants back down so that they rode low on her hips. Nervously she pushed her hair behind her ears, and wiped her sweaty palms on her shirt.

Her heart jerked violently against her ribcage and started to beat out of control when she heard the knock on her door. It had to be him. She took several deep, calming breaths as she walked down stairs to meet him.

He had no idea what he was doing. As he stood there on her doorstep all manner of scenarios played at break-neck pace through his head. What if she had changed her mind and decided not to come out with him after all? What if she thought he was tricking her? It was the kind of thing he would have done in the past just to hurt her and her friends. He had been particularly nasty to her. It was just that she had been so brilliant; it had seemed to him that there was nothing she could not do. Her intelligence had attracted him every bit as much as it has infuriated him. In those days, he had been surrounded by family and friends telling him that a person like her from a muggle family should not be able to do what she did. Yet she continuously broke through every barrier he had imagined in his mind. Once he began to make up his own mind about the world, he saw her differently. She was a force to be reckoned with at the ministry. Some even whispered that she would be Minister of Magic someday. His own respect for her had grown on each occasion that he had worked with her or witnessed the positive changes she had implemented within the Ministry. And now he stood at her door, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans and praying that the stains weren't noticeable.

His heart was thumping so hard he was certain it would give out at the sight of her. He heard her before he saw her; the quick clip of her footstep sounded in tempo with the beat of his heart. Then he swore his heart stopped with the click of the lock and the swish of air as the door opened.

He hoped he looked casually cool, but somehow he doubted it. He smiled brightly, beautifully, though it was full of nerves. She smiled back. And then, he knew, it was their first encounter but would not be the last.

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She studied her reflection in the mirror. She had picked a simple black dress for her date tonight. Because that was what tonight was, a real date. The last three weeks had been filled with outings. They had gone to lunch regularly, visited muggle museums, and even went to see a Quidditch match. However, tonight was a defining moment. Yes, she decided, it was a defining moment if there ever was going to be one. And though it made her nervous, she defied anyone to deny her the right to date whomever she wanted. The past was over. He _had_ changed; the last few weeks had proven that. His nastiness had mellowed to a biting wit; his hatred of everything transformed to a curiosity to know about everything he might have missed out on. And he was brilliant.

While she loved Harry and Ron with her whole heart, conversation with them had never been particularly stimulating. With him it did not seem to matter whether they agreed on or debated an issue, they both always had something to say. She had often found herself enjoying the conversation so much that she felt reluctant to return to work or head home for the night. In fact, this was the first Ministry function she could actually remember looking forward to attending. She grabbed her wrap and headed downstairs to wait for him.

He glanced at the clock for the twelfth time in just under nine minutes. Five 'til. He had told her he would pick her up at six. He didn't want to look desperate, but the truth was he could hardly wait. Every day he looked forward to the time they could spend together. He could hardly concentrate on work anymore. She was there in his head no matter where he was or what he was doing. Her laugh flitted through his mind when he was examining the ledgers; her face was imprinted on his eyelids and he saw her every time he closed his eyes. Comments she had made interrupted his concentration during business meetings. It was a distraction he ached for. And, when they were together, he wished he could spend the whole day with her. At night he dreamt of her. It was like a slow poison. He hadn't even had the guts to kiss her yet. Here he was nearly thirty years old and terrified to kiss her and mess up the tenuous friendship they had begun to form. But, damn it, he wanted it all.

She heard the sharp rap on the door at exactly 6:00. She tried desperately to calm the butterflies in her stomach. Giving herself one final check in the mirror, she grabbed her wrap and walked as calmly as possible to the door. He turned when she opened the door. All of the sudden he went very still, except his hand, which he had pressed against his breast bone. Merlin, he was handsome. It made her nervous; what if he didn't feel the same way for her as she did for him? He hadn't tried to kiss her or flirt with her in the traditional sense. Her heart fluttered again when he took her hand and gently lifted it to his lips. Silently he tugged her forward, his hand remaining warmly and firmly linked with hers as they made their way to the apparition point.

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He had decided that if he made it through the night with his sanity and honour intact he should be put on the Muggle Pope's short-list for Sainthood. When that Hermione had opened the door to her home, he could have sworn that his heart had stopped dead in his chest, then restarted at a frenzied beat.

She had appeared sleek and elegant in her long black evening dress. It had a high neckline, but it was soft and clung to every curve of her body. His imagination was already in overdrive when he placed his hand on the small of her back to urge her forward and his hand contacted with warm, bare skin. After that, his ability to think clearly had begun to deteriorate. Now, as he held her close in a slow waltz, it took all his willpower to not apparate home with her on the spot.

"Hermione," he couldn't get the words to pass his lips, he had barely uttered her name. He knew what he wanted from her, and he knew it was asking for a lot. The chance for a relationship with her was the thing every nerve cell in his body desired. But doubts could plague even him, and so they did, relentlessly.

"I think we should go, Draco," she looked into his eyes, honest and demanding. In that moment he knew everything and nothing at once.

The heat in her eyes was intense, as overwhelming as it was earnest. He couldn't, didn't wait in case she changed her mind. Without regard for anyone else in the room he took her by the arm and headed outside.

As they landed at the apparition site Draco grabbed Hermione by the hips and hauled her up against his body and kissed her with all the intensity he had held inside since he had first seen her. His grip on her hips loosened so that he could run his hands over the bare skin of her back. It was like heaven. He had to get them inside before they had each other right there on the street.

Pulling away from her, Draco took her by the arm and led her as quickly as he could along the darkened street and up the steps to his house. His bedroom was on the second floor. He stopped her at the door; even though he wanted to devour her on the spot, he wanted to savor her even more.

He crossed to the window to let the moonlight in. The way it played over her skin making it look almost translucent was more alluring than he could imagine. She stood so still, her eyes wide, her breaths coming in erratic gasps. He took control and pulled her back into his embrace, his hands gentle as he undid the hooks at the base of her neck. The dress fell from her shoulders and she tilted her head as he laid hungry kisses from her jawbone down to the alluring pulse at the base of her neck.

He felt her tremble against him as her knees seemed to give way and she sagged against him. He lifted her high against his chest and carried her over to the bed. He sat her on the edge and knelt in front of her to remove her shoes and stockings. He whispered his fingertips along the skin of her legs, building the tension racing through his body.

Hermione felt her heart racing. His touch was gentle as he rolled her stockings down her legs, but she felt as if he had burned her with that light touch. His hands snaked up her body, brushing lightly against the sides of her breasts as his lips met hers. He made short work of the pins in her hair. Her mind was so clouded with him that she could hardly separate the individual sensations in her mind.

They quickly shed their clothing, taking every opportunity to touch and taste each other. It was exquisite torture to be consumed by the heat from his hands and mouth. He took her up slowly and reveled in her response. Just as she peaked he slid inside her and took her up for a second time. She clung to him as her body bowed. His head dropped into the crook of her shoulder as he came, his senses filled with the smell of her shampoo and the feel of her body pressed close to his. They lay together in stillness and silence, assimilating this new aspect of their relationship. Though the future was filled with incertitude, they both knew instinctively that this was only the beginning.


End file.
